When you're living the dream,
you may weep.
You may make money.
You may make promises you hope to keep.
I suppose it comes with the territory
of On-site dreamers.
The holes.
The noise, seeping in.
The strength, leaking out.
But there's the struggle
that snuggles
you into a heavy-weight champion.
One that stinks of supernatural hormones
with a Titanium-coated baritone.
I suppose it comes with the territory
of hopefuls.
The over-exaggerating posers of motivationals.
The ostentatious duds.
Me.
But there's the mettle.
of the metal.
That needs constant poking.
Alchemy is an outdated technology.
When you're living the dream,
may you skip.
May you leap.
May you doubly own this trip.
YOU ARE READING
The Good place
PoetryThis is a collection of all the poems I've written about everything I'm curious about and more. Literal pitstop is the pen name I write under on WordPress and Instagram.
